Most ghosts were only too happy to chat about death, which was why Vizette had posed the question.
"You're a good conversationalist," Myrtle said, her distressed expression softening, a hint of pleasure creeping into her voice.
She dipped her head slightly and pointed to one of the stalls, chin raised proudly. "I remember it so clearly... I was crying in that stall..."
Snape cut in with an icy tone. "He's asking how you died!"
"Horrible! You sound just like the Bloody Baron!" Myrtle wailed, retreating to her usual spot above the taps, her voice quivering with fresh tears. "I just heard a boy talking..."
"I was so upset, I thought about coming out and telling him to leave, but then I saw a pair of big, bright yellow eyes... and then I died. You all bullied me! You all hate me..."
She drew out the last words in a dramatic sob before darting toward one of the toilets and vanishing through the door.
Vizette stepped into the stall she'd indicated. "This must be the spot..."
He retraced what he imagined were the boy's steps, emerging from the cubicle. "Assuming he entered the bathroom normally... and Myrtle heard him..."
His eyes fixed on the row of sinks ahead. At the center stood a thick pipe running to the ceiling, with basins encircling it.
Snape had already begun investigating, wand raised as he murmured incantations before shaking his head. "No traces of magic."
"The description's too vague for a standard trigger," Vizette said, frowning. He raised his wand. "Lumos!"
He scrutinized every inch of the sinks—the drains, the basins, the taps—and finally spotted something. Etched into the side of one faucet was a serpentine scratch mark, like a coiled snake.
A closer look revealed similar marks on the other faucets, though shallower, likely mere decoys.
...
Dumbledore returned to the bathroom alone; Hermione and Ron must have been ushered back to their dormitory.
He joined Snape by the sinks. "Any luck?"
Snape shook his head. "Nothing. We'll need Parseltongue."
"It was the same back then," Dumbledore agreed with a nod. "The Ministry scoured the place, but they turned up empty-handed."
"Let's try this." Vizette took a steadying breath and hissed, "Open."
Dumbledore and Snape both sensed the sudden ripple of magic from the sinks.
Snape seized Vizette's shoulders, yanking him back, and leveled his wand at the fixtures.
The surrounding basins slid silently apart, fanning out in all directions. The central pipe had vanished, leaving a wide, dark chute in its place.
Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a silvery phoenix erupted from the tip, diving into the depths.
"Poor choice," Snape remarked dryly. "Unless you fancy reshaping your Patronus every time, best not to let its form show."
Dumbledore gave a wry smile. "Severus has a point—I was careless. But only this once."
"I'll make a note." Vizette pulled out his notebook and jotted down Snape's advice.
Turning to Dumbledore, he asked, "Headmaster, can your Patronus scout what's below?"
Dumbledore waved a hand. "It's no true reconnaissance... but if dark magic lingers, I'll sense it. And it gives fair warning of any threats."
After a tense pause, he said, "We should go down. It's deeper than expected."
"Right!" Vizette nodded, wand at the ready.
Snape arched an eyebrow. "You're joining us?"
"Severus," Dumbledore said gently, "this is the wizarding world. Danger shadows every wizard, even in peacetime."
He ticked off examples on his fingers. "Potions can explode, Quidditch can maim, Care of Magical Creatures... well, that's self-evident."
"Bubble-Head Charm!" Vizette held his wand horizontally before his chest, flicking it upward. A massive bubble engulfed him, then contracted into a seamless film clinging to his skin.
It was a tweak he'd devised, merging the Bubble-Head Charm with Transfiguration principles from the Rubik's Cube Theory—extending the head-only shield across his entire body.
"See?" Dumbledore's voice brightened. "Severus, you must learn to unwind. Besides, we needed Parseltongue to get this far—who knows if it'll come in handy again?"
"Fine, then down we go." Snape tapped his wand against his chest and plunged into the pipe.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Since Severus is so eager to lead, I'll cover the rear."
"Headmaster, I'm heading in." Vizette gripped the sink's edge and slipped feet-first into the chute.
The pipe was slick with muck, the air thick and foul. Without his charm, Vizette imagined, the stench would have overwhelmed him, and grime would have coated every inch of his robes.
The descent twisted endlessly, with side pipes branching off to other parts of the castle, but Vizette stayed on the main path, controlling his slide to a steady pace.
Soon the gradient eased, and soft light gleamed ahead.
Snape emerged into a cavernous tunnel, wand aglow as he crouched to examine scattered debris on the floor.
"Lumos!" Vizette cast, illuminating heaps of tiny bones—rats, frogs, snakes, all jumbled together in pale fragments.
The bones were ancient, crumbling to dust underfoot.
Vizette rose, wand sweeping the space. The tunnel felt eerily familiar, echoing the chamber where Dumbledore kept his Pensieve.
Activating his Magical Eye, he detected threads of old, silvery-blue magic permeating the walls.
He mapped the layout in his mind as he probed deeper. Dumbledore and Snape were already advancing when he finished gathering the residual power. With a gesture from the headmaster, Vizette fell in behind them, the group pressing into the shadows.
—